Melting the Cold
by Pita Pita Amulet
Summary: The Shaman Tournament has yet to start up again, several months after the untimely destruction of her guardian spirits, Tamra is still recovering, until a little hope appears.
1. Nothing Inside

Hihi! All I've done is taken Tamra, made her cooler, got rid of her annoying spirits and given her a much more mysterious one! So there fore I don't own Shaman King, or Tamra, just the mysterious spirit. Inspired by "After All" by Delerium, I love that song, and all the fan fics I've ever read.

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The small grey stone shrine stood alone, silently watching the sun set as it always did, alone. Not understood or even known to most the scene made Tamra cry every time she sat at the porch and watched it. The thought that such a beautiful shrine had once been the centre of a circle of twelve others of the same kind, but now stood as the lonely guardian in their memory really touched her. She was always emotional but this went beyond plain emotions, something in that shrine called out to her heart with a lonely voice.

Sniffing slightly she dried her magenta eyes on the sleeve of her kimono and continued to watch the sun set. Footsteps roused her from her thoughtfulness; she turned to see Yoh sliding the door open. Quickly she turned away and tried to make herself a little more presentable. She heard the door shut and forced her hands to stop trembling.

"Uh, Tamra? I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Ponchi and Konchi, it must be tough on you, losing your guardian spirits and all." He padded over and sat next to her with his knee pulled close to his chest, and his arm draped over it in one of his many relaxed positions. She breathed in his familiar scent and smiled meekly. Studying the shaman boy for a moment she realised he was becoming more handsome each day, Anna was so lucky. Although it had been a long time, Tamra still felt the remains of her crush on Yoh. This weekend Yoh and Anna had returned to the Asakura estate to stay for a while, it had opened her eyes to the remnants of her silly crush. "What I guess I'm trying to say is," Yoh continued, staring out at the sun as it made it sank down under the horizon. "You're so brave, but if you need anything – you know, moral support or something – just ask." He smiled at her, that bright smile that made her stumble.

Was Yoh Asakura really worried about her? But it didn't make sense, it had been months since the fox and racoon spirits were lost to her. She blamed herself at first, and then she came to realise that it really was her fault. There was nothing she could do about it; the spirits had been completely destroyed. Instead in their memory she had delayed her shaman training almost certainly indefinitely, it basically gave her no reason to live. She'd spent much of the months following their destruction as a numb shell. Yoh probably thought she was revelling in self-pity out here, bringing herself to tears because of a fate she couldn't control.

"Y- Yoh, thank you." It was all she could say.

"That's what friends are for, right?" He laughed and looked absently at the shrine. "Do you think the tournament will start up again?" Tamra had noticed he thought a lot about the tournament; maybe routine life was too hard to focus on after such amazing events had controlled several years of his life.

She paused before answering, with a soft smile. "I don't know, but I hope it does, for your sake, Yoh." Blushing she stared at her hands.

"Let's keep on hoping then." He laughed again and a moment of silence passed between the two. Tamra struggled to think of something to break the silence, although it was what she had known for most of her life, she still knew the difference between comfortable and uncomfortable silence. Suddenly, Yoh broke it, to her relief. "Well, I better get to bed before Anna finds me." He stood and left the girl on one of the many porches of the main house.

Once he had gone Tamra smiled to herself, thinking vaguely that she had better get to bed too, but she didn't move. More to the point, she didn't have time to move. Almost as soon as Yoh was gone something began to stir. The spirit, from it's concealment inside the shrine had over heard all that had passed between the two, and it was interested. Although a long time ago it had been sealed within the shrine, along with twelve other spirits, the spirit had recently gained the ability to leave the prison at free-will; centuries of testing the seals had done this. Now the spirit erupted from the shrine. Once out it stretched into shape and began to laugh, with the relief of freedom.

Tamra on the other hand, stared. Her magenta eyes lost all softness and were wide in astonishment and fear. Her mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but she couldn't. The spirit before her took the shape of a young man, dressed in loose white clothes, reminiscent of a Chinese style. Black hair fell messily over his face, shadowing his eyes from her sight. He turned to her and smiled, showing animal-like canines.

"So you must be Tamra." He spoke with a soft, slow voice that not only made him seem sly but careful as well. It utterly confused the girl's mind as she stared at him. "I am Ne-Koran, the Thirteenth Cat Spirit." Something twitched in his floppy midnight hair. Her attention turned to the movement momentarily. She gasped and scrabbled back slightly; finally conscious she had been leaning forward. He had cat ears, black cat ears. He stepped forward with a vaguely confused and concerned look gracing his features. Now she could clearly see his eyes, a dark blue, sorrowful yet sly. They, like his voice, brought contrasting impressions of the spirit to Tamra's mind. A black tail looped itself round his arm, she soon realised he was holding his hand out to her. Moving backwards, she didn't take her eyes off the spirit.

Cat ears? A tail? What kind of spirit is he? What if he's going to possess me?Thoughts rushed into her mind without her even faintly noticing that the spirit was insulted by her conduct. She hit the wall and looked around in panic, she was cornered.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare, or have I insulted you in some way?" The spirit's frown conveyed his lack of patience clearly. The rose haired girl blinked and looked at him with complete confusion written across her face.

"I- I'm sorry." She stumbled over her words repeatedly, scared he would attack her but at the same time some part of her realising that he was being polite to her, vengeful spirits didn't often do that.

The spirit sighed and shook his head, as he ran a delicate hand through his hair, his long sleeve slipped down his arm. "Let's just cut to the point." He continued impatiently. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm sure you feel the same." The spirit's tail flicked agitatedly, he smiled once again, but this time it was more of a smirk. "You, my blossom-haired girl, are a shaman. Better yet! You are a shaman without a guardian spirit. Therefore, it is my duty to present you with the offer of, well, me, as your guardian spirit."

The blank expression that swiftly passed across the girl's face annoyed him, a lot. It reminded him of something, thought he couldn't completely remember what or whom. Ignoring it he waited for her most certain acceptance. "Oh, I've given up being a shaman. I don't need a guardian spirit." She laughed, innocent of the wound his pride no bore.

His face twitched slightly in suppression of his emotions. "Are you crazy? A shaman cannot just 'give up', and did you not hear me? I am _the_ Thirteenth Cat Spirit." He paused as if thinking over what he had just said in a pathetic outburst, Tamra waited in apprehension for his next words. "You may call me Koran, though." With that he bowed with a flourish.

The girl cocked her head slightly, managing to skilfully hold in laughter. "Koran-san?" She spoke quietly, averting her eyes when the spirit looked at her.

"Yes?" He was yet again impatient, if she had no need for him he might as well crawl back into his prison and rethink his plans.

"Why do you want to be my guardian spirit?" She asked curiously, still she kept her eyes to her hands. The initial shock of the spirit's entrance had worn off, now she wondered if he could read her mind. She was lonely, and a part of her missed the life of a shaman.

The Cat Spirit was taken back a little by the question. "Why? Well, isn't it obvious?" He spoke to cover his lack of certainty, why did he ask her? "I was sealed in that shrine for nigh on five centuries. I'd rather be free, working with a shaman than locked in there." It was a pathetic excuse but it seemed Tamra believed it.

"Then, may I accept your offer, Koran-san?" She smiled at the spirit and shuffled forward on her knees. Her smile was sickly sweet and full of warmth, he wanted to look away, but he didn't. Her face reminded her of something that it seemed his heart wanted terribly to forget.

"Yes, you may." Then he bowed to her on one knee. "To you Tamra, I give my spirit so that I may protect and fight with you as your guardian spirit." Tamra blushed, not really knowing how to respond.

"Uh, Ne-Koran, I accept your… pledge, and promise to fight with you..." She gave up on trying thinking of more. I hope I haven't insulted him, she thought with worry, and that I haven't done something really stupid.

**0**

Please review! Mistakes, flames, adjustments, ideas, anything! Thank you, thank you for reading!


	2. Blurred Flames

Sorry I haven't updated, I didn't think anyone would read it, so if you did I'm sorry. Also I've been quite busy with school and such.

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_Flames licked hungrily at the buildings. Sparks flew high into the heavens. A scene of despair and pain lay before the traveller, his return after what seemed too long was supposed to be a joyful one. Fearing for the ones he left behind he ran from the woods. He ran straight into the heart of the disaster._

_The smoke, seeping through his scarf, choked him and made his eyes water. Pleading to any god he stumbled through the wreckage, calling out names as he went. Finally he stood before his home. Falling to his knees his stinging eyes began to weep. No one had answered his calls, he doubted anyone been alive when the estate had been torched. As he cried for his family, he became aware of nothing but his own grief. The seven people who gathered behind him went unnoticed. Their soot and sweat stained faces watched him sorrowfully._

_They knew the man, they knew him well. He was one of them, they were supposed to protect the village from bandits, and they had failed. In their attempt they had lost four of their number, most had been injured beyond salvation, or had poison coursing through their veins. They had still crawled back to the square, where they stood now._

_For what seemed an eternity they stood patiently watching the house, glancing at their grieving companion with pity. At last someone stumbled out, clutching a frail figure to their body. One of the seven stepped forward and rested her blood encrusted hand on the grieving man's shoulder. Immediately he looked up, his red eyes saw nothing but a burning shadow, until he dried them._

_With a start he leapt up and ran swiftly to the rescuer. He helped them to the centre of the square where the seven still stood patiently. Relieved of the duty of carrying the body, the rescuer looked up at the group. Although they were on the verge of death, they still held determined fierce looks in their eyes. He spoke with a powerful voice that raised the hopes of the most broken fighter._

_"Now with our thirteenth returned, we shall make our last attack. The witch must die!" With that the group cheered loudly, stirring the sleeping figure in the travellers arm._

_What happened next was a mystery. After they had made their pledge the group had been surrounded. Somehow the figure had been moved out of danger while the nine fought savagely. Their enemy out numbered them greatly, and, among other advantages, had no fear of death, for they were already dead._

_A doshi is behind this one, thought one of the weary fighters, noting the talismans on their adversaries' foreheads._

_They were surrounded by dead puppets, controlled from elsewhere. At full strength the group knew they might have stood a chance, but many of their number were on the verge of death already. They were overwhelmed._

_Soon comrades began to fall, death finally taking them. All too suddenly there were only five left. As the sixth hit the ground with a cry of pain everything became silent. The corpses stopped where they were, for a few moments it seemed they were frozen. Then they began to move back, slowly and quietly. Only the sounds of the odd clicking bones were heard above the survivors' heavy breaths. Some began to part creating a path between them, down which a tall figure shrouded in a dark cloak made its way toward the five, who watched it and the puppets wearily._

_"I have come to relieve the Thirteen Cats of their Spirits before you grow to be a problem." The figure stopped metres away from the bedraggled fighters; unseeing eyes came to their view. "Already holding seven I predict that I will soon hold the rest." One of the five furthest from the sightless man, for his voice caused them to assume his male identity, the poison in his blood overcoming him. "Make that eight. It also appears that the Thirteenth has returned from treachery. This is all in my favour."_

_Hearing these words the traveller gripped his dripping daggers with such force his knuckles paled. He was closest to the witch, he had a clean shot, all he had to do was time it right. His leader spoke quietly from behind, "Ignore his words, none of us held feelings against you. Your arrival is in our favour."_

_Somewhere behind the sightless doshi, hidden in the wreckage was the girl who had been rescued from the fire. She woke groggily and looked around. All she could feel was the pain in her mind but she forced herself to focus. She could tell she was not safe yet. The smell of rotting flesh drew her attention to the enemy surrounding the square. She concealed a scream when she realised they were dead. Carefully she crawled closer to the figure in the cloak, ignoring the burning pain. He had to be responsible, and she wanted a better view._

_It appeared to her horror that only four of the original four stood from the original twelve defenders. She recognised three of the survivors, they were all battered and closing in on death by their appearance, but one she did not immediately recognise. When the Thirteenth Cat came to her she gasped. Is it really him? He's been gone for so long, I didn't think he would ever return, she thought as she watched._

_The Thirteenth attacked the cloaked figure, with such sudden aggression that the girl almost jumped. He lashed out so fast she was sure he had struck his target. Before her eyes the figure gracefully dodged each attack thrown at him. All that the traveller had caused was weariness in his own body with his attacks. With the growing weariness came sloppy attacks and mistakes. He lunged too far and could not stop himself from falling to his knees. Coughing and panting, he struggled to stand again. Looking up he found himself looking straight at the girl that had been carried from the burning house. He smiled weakly at her, once she had been his friend, they were nearly promised in marriage to each other. Managing to get to his feet he turned slowly to face his enemy once more._

_Noting that the man now held a sword, he made one last attack. The girl gasped and looked away, not bearing to watch his death. The sword bit hard into his abdomen. His body screamed with rage as he pushed forward onto the blade. He slashed at the sword's holder. His daggers bit into the man's shoulder and arm. A trickle of blood from his lips, followed the Thirteenth's smile. His breathing shallow with pain, the Thirteenth Cat fell forward on the sword. He kept his eyes open long enough to see the remaining three launch their own attacks at the doshi. The witch's last words cut through the pain._

_"Even in death you will not find peace."_

After he had won the witch had sealed the Thirteen Cat Spirits in the Thirteen Shrines. As time passed their memory was forgotten and legends of the shrines were invented. The Thirteenth Shrine was always given the part of the traitor. Eventually the Twelve Shrines were destroyed, the people fearing malicious spirits. Along with their destruction came the destruction of the spirits of those twelve defenders. Yet the people refused to destroy the Thirteenth Shrine, fearing the release of the traitorous spirit that supposedly slept within. So the centuries passed and Ne-Koran had to endure his own thoughts and silence.

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And voila, you have his history. No wonder he wets the bed, oops I didn't say that. Next update will be in quite a while; it's not prepared at all. Read and review, flame, be a hater, slobber on it, be constructive, just be you.


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